suffer. I want him to understand what losing a family member is like.”
Jirdeer took the key. “As you wish, Sarock.”
• • •
“Why are we stopping?” Tommy asked from the back seat.
Matt had slowed the sedan and pulled to the curb of the suburban tree-lined street. “We wait here for backup. Luke is picking up Jennifer.”
“What are you talking about,” Tommy said. “I wanna get this rat bastard while I still got venom running through my blood.”
“They’ve got six, maybe seven soldiers up there. We’re not going to accomplish our goals alone.”
“I gotta tell ya.” Tommy shook his head. “Taking orders is not my strong suit. It’s the reason I never got married.”
“Relax. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Kemin’s face grew smug in the passenger seat.
“The fuck you so happy about?” Tommy blurted.
Kemin’s smile disappeared. He seemed reluctant to engage Tommy in dialogue. As if he might give Tommy more information than he already had.
Tommy stepped out into the cool autumn air.
“Where are you going?” Matt said.
“I’m taking a little stroll.”
“Get back in the car!”
Tommy dug his toothpick in between two back molars and took in the surroundings. Nice rolling hills. The houses were separated by acres of trees. No two homes looked alike. Nothing like the endless parade of row houses that framed the bowling-lane streets back in Baltimore.
“I like it up here,” Tommy said.
“Good, now get back in the car.”
Tommy looked down at Kemin in the front seat. “How far away are we?”
Matt jumped out of the car and slammed the roof. “Dammit, Tommy, we do this my way.”
“Your way put my cousin in the hospital. I’m not so impressed-”
“I’ll take you,” Kemin interrupted.
No one spoke.
“You two fight like old women arguing over a soup recipe,” Kemin said.
Tommy smiled. “See, even the terrorists are accommodating up in the mountain air.” He opened the passenger door and gestured Kemin to get out.
“Tommy,” Matt said. “You’re screwing this whole thing up.”
“Let me tell you something, G-man.” Tommy pulled on Kemin’s arm until he was out of the car. “A kind of operation like these guys have, they’ve got a system. This putz is overdue for his call-in. They know something’s wrong. If we wait until those two get here they could be gone.”
Matt seemed to consider the idea.
Tommy raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “You see I understand these guys better than you think. We don’t have time. At least let’s get close and be ready to stop them if they try to bolt.”
Matt lowered his head for a moment, then slammed his door shut and came around the car. “All right. We get to within five-hundred yards and that’s it. I’ll monitor them with my field glasses.”
“Is that the same as binoculars? You government types always trying to complicate things.”
Matt shook his head in disgust and motioned for Kemin to show them the way.
Tommy took out his pistol and held it waist high. “Don’t get cute, unless you can run faster than a thousand feet a second.”
Kemin took slow, deliberate steps and seemed to be searching for markers along the way. Tommy didn’t like the way Kemin observed the leaf-covered floor of the forest. It gave him an uneasy feeling, like when someone had a winning hand at a poker table.
Tommy was about to tell Matt about this when his world fell out from under him. He plunged to the bottom of a massive hole with enough force to empty his lungs. He gasped for air as tears filled his eyes. The back of his head throbbed from the impact. He tried to make sense of what just happened. He looked up and eight feet above him were long strands of branches with leaves glued to them. They covered up the opening. A couple of the branches came down with him into the hole.
He heard Matt shout. Then two gunshots pierced the forest.
Matt stopped shouting.
Tommy groped around the hole for his gun, but it wasn’t there. His breaths were coming in quick spurts. It was dark and the dirt was cold and moist. The gun, where did his gun go? His question was answered when he looked up. Kemin leered down at him with his arm extended. In his hand was Tommy’s gun.
“Great,” Tommy said, catching his breath. “You found my gun. Thanks.”
“Throw me your cell phone,” Kemin said.
“What’s the matter all of a sud-”
“Give me your cell phone or I kill you like I did the FBI agent.”
“See, I just don’t see myself doing that.”
“Goodbye, you stupid, stupid man.” Kemin stretched out his shooting hand and smiled a wicked smile. Tommy sat motionless. He shut his eyes tight and waited. When the shot came, it was quieter than he’d expected. As if Kemin had moved farther away. He waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. When he opened his eyes Kemin was gone. He couldn’t put it together in his mind until he saw a different face come into view above him. It was Matt. His face was dirty. His gun was by his side.
“You okay?” Matt said.
“How?”
Matt pounded his chest with his fist and the unmistakable sound of Kevlar rung out. “I slipped it on before we left the hospital.”
“You know something,” Tommy said. “I’m beginning to have a crush on you.”
Chapter 4
Joe Tessamano sat down on the barstool at the Winchester Saloon and raised his index finger to the female bartender.
“Draft Bud,” he said.
The woman gave him one of the best tip-grubbing smiles he’d ever seen. She was half his age, but that didn’t stop his imagination from drifting away. He watched her in those tight jeans pour his beer and place it on a cocktail napkin in front of him. He slid a twenty dollar bill toward her and said, “Keep it.”
She beamed and Joe smiled back. He took a sip of his beer and looked around the darkened bar. It was his first trip to Payson since he’d moved to Scottsdale from the East Coast. Scottsdale was oozing money, with oversized trucks and hot moms driving convertibles and everything else this little mountain town wasn’t. But he didn’t drive the hour and a half for pleasure. This was simply a business trip. Or at least it had the potential to be a business trip should the circumstances present themselves.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a hand-rolled Dominican cigar. The Cuban’s had the best tobacco, but the Dominican’s knew how to roll better than anyone he’d ever seen. He licked his lips, then placed the cigar in his mouth. The female bartender gave him a firm look.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he assured her. “I’m just getting it lubed up for later.”
She grinned and Joe winked back.
A thin man with dark skin and thick mustache sat next to Joe. “Are you Joseph?” the man said with a Middle Eastern sounding accent.
Joe didn’t like the guy already. He was stiff and uncomfortable and drawing attention to himself just by his formal behavior. He’d called him Joseph as if he’d learned his name from looking up Joe’s driver’s license.
